Reconciling Accounts
by wildegreenlight
Summary: "He flashed her that grin and, even coming from his scarily pale face, that was enough to break the tension. Soon they were both laughing, a laugh that brought the edges of their wounds together for mending." Missing mending moments in Ron and Hermione's relationship. Includes a little mystery.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is the first chapter of a little Romione missing moments ficlet that I have been working on this week. I am a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy! There will be two more chapters and an epilogue...stay tuned for more!**_

She knew that she should go to bed, that it might be a bit improper and presumptive to stay, but she had known that when she made the reckless decision to come back to the hospital wing. After all the months of anger and avoidance, she just couldn't wait another minute to see him again, to be reassured that we was alive.

As she watched his sleeping form, just the sight of his chest rising and falling was a miracle, she could not help but think about how close she had come to losing him.

 _Even if you never really_ _ **had**_ _him, not in the way you wanted…_

She sighed heavily at the thought, but dedicated herself to her newfound mission: to put her unrequited feelings aside, and be the best friend she could be. He deserved to be happy; it wasn't his fault that he preferred pretty blondes. She had known him long enough to know his "type"; it was definitely not bushy-haired, nightmare, know-it-alls.

 _OK…enough of that…remember he DID say YOUR name in his sleep. That has to mean something doesn't it? Well, he probably just heard my voice and was so surprised that he…what if he was trying to tell me to leave? Maybe I should go…_

She stood reluctantly, and gasped audibly when Ron's hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. His eyes looked wild as she stared down at him.

"Two thousand…eight hundred….fifty-six" He repeated the numbers very solemnly.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

"Or is it fifty-seven?!"

"Maybe I should get Madame Pomfrey. She said you might be a little disoriented when you woke up."

"Hermione?" The wild look was replaced by confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, I…I thought…I…..was just going," she needed to go before the tears that were stinging her eyes spilled over her lashes. She berated herself for being so stupid as to think he would want to see _her_ at his bedside.

"NO!" His grip on her wrist tightened and his voice cracked at the effort of shouting.

"You mustn't shout; you'll hurt yourself. I'll stay…if you want me to."

"'Course I do." His answer was so earnest that it nearly took her breath; she had known him long enough to know when he was just being polite.

He was still holding on to her; a fact that caused her heart to pound so loudly that she was certain he must be able to hear it.

"Alright then, I'll stay. Do you need anything?"

 _Anything at all?_

"No, I'm fine. Just a little confused. What happened?"

"You were poisoned. Harry saved you." Her knees felt weak, understandable considering her physical exhaustion. However, if she were honest it would be more accurately attributed to her being so close to him, touching him, looking into his eyes while once again thinking about what could have happened. She must have swayed slightly because his brow furrowed.

"Are _you_ okay? You should sit down. How long have you been here?"

She once again took the seat that had held her vigil throughout the night. He released her wrist with a gentleness that she would have sworn was reluctance, but she tried not to let herself think such fruitless thoughts.

"I am fine; honestly, you're the one who almost…" she would not say it aloud; it hurt too much.

 _Don't cry…don't cry…be strong._

"Hey, come on. What would a year at Hogwarts be without one of us being in here? I reckon it was my turn." He flashed her _that_ grin and, even coming from his scarily pale face, that was enough to break the tension. Soon they were both laughing, a laugh that brought the edges of their wounds together for mending.

"Well, I guess I will give you that. Madame Pomfrey might be out of a job or at the very least be terribly bored without us here." She wiped her eyes, glad for the excuse that the laughing fit had given her.

"And really, 'Mione, I'd rather it be me than you…or Harry."

 _How does he do that? Why does he do that? Can't he see that my poor heart can't take this?_

"Don't you think it's high time you come down off that giant chess piece? Give someone else the chance to be noble?" She kept her voice light, but the seriousness of her intent seeped in around the edges of her words.

"Not when it comes to you." His eyes bored into hers so intensely that she could not bear to look away.

"And Harry, right?" She wanted him to be clear; she would not let herself be misled.

"Yeah, and Harry."

The silence threatened to grow between them, but she made one last attempt to preserve this moment: just the two of them.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything? There's water, and I may have something to eat in my bag."

"Sounds perfect, but only if you join me."

He sipped the glass of water she had poured him while she rummaged through her bag to find the sandwich she had never gotten around to eating for her dinner. She felt a little self-conscious, his eyes following her movements. As they ate, a new feeling of normalcy asserted itself, and they fell back comfortably into old patterns as they talked about the events of the evening.

"If nothing else, it is a birthday I will never forget." She would have scolded him for talking with food in his mouth, but his comment woke her up.

"Oh, Ron! I missed your birthday! I feel terrible!" She was careful not to say she had forgotten because that would have been a lie.

"Don't worry about it. I can't exactly blame you for missing it."

"Yes, you can. I have been a horrid friend….I…."

"You? I'm the one that…" he fumbled for words, and as much as she had fantasized these past weeks about him groveling at her feet in apology, in this moment it no longer mattered.

"Come now, all this isn't good for you. You need your rest."

"No, I'm fine, really," he tried unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

"No arguing; it's time for you to get some sleep, it's late."

"It can't be _that_ late."

 _I swear that grin will be the death of me._

"Actually," she said, peering through the dim light at the clock at the other end of the large room, "it is a quarter past two in the morning."

"Right. Maybe we should go to bed…I mean to sleep…I mean you should…can you go back? I don't want you to get detention because of me. Not to mention what happened to me and Katie, it might not be safe for you to go wandering around so late by yourself."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Well, you could stay here. There are plenty of empty beds."

She was conflicted. It felt like too much too soon, but he was right: it wasn't the best idea for her to be alone in the halls at this hour. Combine that with pure exhaustion and the weakness brought on by his earnest expression, and she was done in.

"Ok, but let me get you settled first." She fluffed his pillows and straightened his blankets. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm fine, go get some sleep."

She turned down the bed closest to his and removed her shoes and jumper before crawling in and dimming the lights even further.

"Good night, Hermione. Thanks for being here."

"Good night, Ron. Thank _you_ for being here! Don't scare me like that again, ok?"

"I'll do my best."

Happiness spread through her, and despite the strangeness of the bed and the fact that she was still fully clothed, she slipped quickly toward the best night's sleep she had experienced in months. Just before consciousness left her, she could have sworn she heard Ron whisper something that sound like the numbers he had repeated when he first awoke, but she too far gone to wonder what they meant.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke with a start, completely disoriented. It took her a few moments to gather her wits. She wasn't sure what time it was, but the dim sunlight filtering into the tent told her that it was morning. She was incredulous; how had she managed to sleep through the night? Through her shift at the watch?

Hermione bolted upright in her cot to confirm what she already suspected, what she already knew. Yes, Harry was sleeping in his bunk and Ron was gone.

 _Not gone; he's outside…taking your bloody watch, again!_

Since he had come back, this had become his habit. Always doing more: more shifts, more cleaning, more gathering wood, **more.** At first she had been glad to let him do it; it seemed to serve him right: he needed to suffer. She wanted him to suffer, to feel as bad as she had felt when he walked away. He deserved it for making her cry, for making her want to run into his stupid half-raised arms and kiss him! For making her forget it all for just a split second when he stood there dripping water all over the tent with that damn adorable look on his face!

But, as the days passed, his kindnesses did not stop. God knows she had done her best to make them stop. In order to keep what left of her shattered heart safe, she had convinced herself that if she pushed him away hard enough that he would stop _this_.

What was _this?_ She would not let herself believe that it was anything but guilt and pity. Before, she had let herself be blinded by her own feelings; she had projected them on him. She had taken all the little moments: dancing at the wedding, sleeping with their fingers intertwined, hugging for comfort and hidden them in her heart, combing them with the thousands of imagined glances and secret touches to create a mirage worthy of the Mirror of Erised.

But it had never been real. His leaving confirmed her darkest fears: that he had never loved her at all. The darkest parts of her mind whispered it to her in the silence of the nights that she spent wrapped in his blanket. A cruel, twisted version of his voice repeated it like a mantra, " _Love a nightmare like you? Never! Look at you! You're a mess! If you're so brilliant, why can't you figure that out?"_

When he had come back and the influence of the locket was gone, she realized that those thoughts were not entirely her own, nor were they entirely true. He **did** care about her, but he was Ron Weasley, that's what he did: he cared about the people he loved. And he did love her: like he loved Harry and his family. So these little kindnesses were far from comforting; they were glaring reminders that he just didn't want to hurt her feelings. _Just like Lavender._ She felt like she was going to be sick.

 _This shit stops TODAY!_

She threw back the blankets, rushing to pull on her shoes and coat. She picked up her wand and cast a _muffaltio_ over Harry's sleeping form; she did not want them to be interrupted.

She stepped out of the tent battle-ready, but the opposition was nowhere to be seen. She stood perfectly still and listened. Fear pushed back her anger. _Where is he? What if something happened?_

Wand drawn, she began to inch toward the small fire that marked the place where he should have been sitting. It was still burning. That meant he had not been gone long. She moved closer and noticed that there were markings in the dirt that surrounded the fire. At first she feared they were some evil message, but as grew closer she recognized the patterns.

Ron often doodled on his parchment while taking notes, he had done it since first year. She had initially chided him for the habit until she began to realize that it was not a distraction; it was something that actually helped him concentrate and retain information. In the dirt there were numerous swirls and qudditch related objects; she would recognize his drawings anywhere. However, as she turned to investigate his disappearance further something caught her eye. At the edge of his artwork there were numbers.

1584 1608

 _What did they mean? Was it some sort of code he had left for them to find? Was he in trouble?_ She felt the little hairs at the back of her neck stand on end as she heard the sound of a snapping twig coming from behind her. She whirled around, preparing to hex whoever had broken the wards.

"Woah! Hermione! It's only me!"

"Ron! You scared me to death! Where were you?! I thought…I mean, where were you? What happened?"

"Sorry I startled you. I just did a quick lap around the boarder; my legs were cramping up. Everything is fine."

"Oh, okay." She felt her heart unclench; he was, they were, fine. _Get hold of yourself Granger! You didn't come out here to stare at him like an idiot!_

"I can put on a cuppa if you'd like."

She straightened up her shoulders and, for the first time since his return, looked at him fully in the eyes.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing Ron Weasley?"

"I just told you, I was…"

"No! Don't act thick! What in the bloody hell do you mean with all this," she gesticulated wildly in search of the right words but could not find them, " ** _THIS_** **?** "

He stepped closer to her then, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt weak despite the extra rest she had recently received, but she refused to show it. He let out a large breath before he continued.

"I figured you'd be right mad that I took your turn last night, but you were resting so peacefully; I just couldn't bring myself to wake you. You need…"

"What I NEED is for you to stop presuming what I need! I am more than capable of doing my share!"

"Trust me, I know more than anyone just how capable you are. I also know that you had to spend weeks doing MY share because I was a stupid git."

The pained look in his eyes threatened to pull her anger away, so she gripped it in tightened fists.

"That may be true, but you have to stop it! I won't let you do this anymore!"

"Do what exactly? Apologize? Try to make things right? I mean, I know I can't really make it right, and I don't blame you for hating me."

"IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT?! Me HATING you?!" She was in full fury now. Fists clenched, eyes flashing, tears forming. "This would be so much fucking easier if I hated you!"

She couldn't help but take satisfaction in the shocked look that passed over his face when she cursed. _He thinks he knows me so well? Poor little, innocent Hermione, needs to be looked after?! Hardly!_

"I hope you don't, but I know I have given you every reason to, and I don't really deserve a chance to make it up to you, so I will stop if it makes you uncomfortable."

She wanted to scream! How could he just stand there and make so much SENSE and be so CALM?! She wanted him to fight her, to convince her, to go and leave and get it over with…. _Oh, god…that's it isn't it?_ Her knees hit the ground and her head slumped over. Before she could even register what happened, he was on his knees in front of her gripping her shoulders.

"Hermione! Are you alright? I'm so sorry! Just tell me what to do, what you need! Anything!"

"Was it true?"

"Was what true?"

"What you said about the deluminator? About hearing my voice?" She looked at him again; praying that she would be able to confirm the sincerity of his answer.

"Yeah. It was all true. I heard you; you said my name, and I was able to find you."

"Don't you understand, Ron? Don't you understand that I don't hate _you_." All the fight was gone from her; she felt so small, so fragile.

"Honestly, I don't. Can you help me? Please, I want to understand."

"You left. In the heat of the moment. It was **one** decision: one that you would change if you could."

Tears were beginning to fall down his face, he glanced over toward the fire, but he made no move to release her.

"I will never regret anything more."

"But I…I made a thousand decisions, every day you were gone. I would not allow myself to speak your name. I was so angry, so hurt…if I had only said it sooner, you could have come back. But I was too stubborn! That's why I hate _me_ , not you!"

She couldn't look at him, and he made no sound. Apparently her admission had shocked him as much as it had her. When he did finally speak, his voice was low but oddly forceful.

"Look at me Hermione." She complied. What she saw nearly took he breath away. She had never seen him look so fierce. "That is the barmiest fucking thing I have EVER heard you say! This was **my** fault! You did nothing wrong! Do you understand?!"

"I **_understand_** that you are trying to be noble, as usual, and I will not have it! I don't need your pity!"

"PITY?!" He released her then and sat back on his haunches, running his hands through his hair. "Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you think **_this_** ," he motioned his hands between them, "has anything to do with me feeling PITY for you?!"

She leapt to her feet and stood looking down at him. Her heart was pounding, her cheeks flushed, it was…wonderful. For just a moment she forgot everything else and just enjoyed the normalcy of bickering with him.

"Yes! No! I don't…look, I know you feel guilty about leaving us, but I won't let you do this anymore."

"You won't _let_ me?!" He stood up then, looking at her challengingly.

"No, I won't."

"I guess we'll just see about that won't we?" The look in his eyes changed, and she could have sworn she saw the beginning of a smirk on his ridiculously adorable face.

" **I** am going in to make tea. I will bring **you** out a cup. When you finish, you **will** go inside and get some sleep, do you understand?"

"Actually, I think I do."

"Good."

She turned and went back into the tent. In doing so, she missed his smile and the haste in which he erased all his doodles from around the fire.


	3. Chapter 3

She drifted up into consciousness slowly. The familiar feeling reminded her of the second task, of being pulled up to the water's surface, oxygen entering her lungs more quickly than thoughts could enter her brain. She still remembered her disappointed that day.

 _She had gone down to the lake with Ron. He had characteristically used his humor to assure her that she would be fine; he had uncharacteristically taken her hand in his to soothe her as Dumbledore cast the spell over them both. She had no memory, of course, of the time she spent in the lake, but she would never forget coming to afterwards. There were arms wrapped around her, and in her disorientation, she had assumed they were Ron's: of course, they were Viktor's._

Now, as her mind came to the surface she heard the soft sound of waves in the distance. _Waves? Where am I?_ Then a second sound, more comforting and familiar: Ron's sleeping breath. She would know that sound anywhere. Instantly she felt more relaxed. New memories came up from the depths.

 _She is waiting in the dark. It is cold. She is alone; no, not alone. She hears him, calling for her. He is coming deeper, closer to her. Will he be too late? She is not sure that she can hold on any more. She is not sure she wants him to come. What if it is a trap? He tried to take her place; she is glad he did not. As long as he is safe, it will be worth it. It is her turn to make the sacrifice. She sinks deeper, farther away. Then she feels arms around her, holding her tight. This time they are the right arms. He whispers to her, begs her to stay. He grips her to him; she hears the sounds of his heart and his tears and the ocean._

The light was dim in the little room when she opened her eyes. She could not really make out any details about her surroundings other than the fact that she was sleeping in a bed, a real bed, and that Ron was sleeping close by. When she tried to move her hand, she found him. His head was on the mattress beside her, close to her hip. She reached out those few inches and gently touched his hair, it was disheveled and obviously dirty, but she still reveled in the feel of it. Suddenly, he started and lifted up his head, clearly disoriented.

"Mione?" His voice was barely recognizable, hoarse from screams and sobs and sleep.

"Ron." It was not a question; questions were doubts, and she would never doubt him again.

He took her hand in his, and even in the low light she could see the relief wash over his features.

"Where are we?"

"Shell Cottage; Bill and Fleur's place. We came here after…I'm not sure how much you remember. Fleur said you might not…well…your mind might be…"

"I'm fine, Ron…my mind is fine…I just feel a little confused, disoriented."

He let out a large sigh of relief and a booming laugh left his lips. He looked at her sheepishly then, like a child who has spoken too loudly in church.

"Sorry…I just…I don't think I've ever been so happy to…I mean you, you're alright, you're really here. I was just so afraid that I had been…too late."

His smile faded and a new look took over his face: a mix of fear, despair, regret. She knew that all she wanted in that moment was a world where she could spare him those feelings.

"Nothing to be sorry for, and I can assure you that you were right on time. You saved me." She could not continue for a moment, overcome with the weight of all she wanted to say to him.

"I should have done more…I tried…I swear…It should have been me. You have to know that I would give anything for it to have been me instead of you!" The fervent look in his eyes quite literally took her breath.

"NO!" She sat up in the bed to emphasize her point, the fierceness of her argument outweighing any physical discomfort. Her sudden movement startled him and distracted him from the full import of what she was saying.

"Mione, calm down. You need to be more careful, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"You cannot say that Ron, please, you cannot say that!"

Her face was so close to his that he could see the fire in her eyes as she spoke. She could see his disbelief and it crushed a part of her heart. Would he ever see the truth? Would he ever know that she was just as willing to sacrifice herself for him as he obviously was for her? How had she messed things up so badly? She had held him at arm's length for years. She had built a wall of pride and fear to keep him out.

"Ron, I need to tell you something. I need you to let me. I need you to believe me."

"Mione…you need to rest…this can wait until you feel better…let me take care of you."

"No, Ron, this cannot wait! And if you want to take care of me, want me to feel better, you will let me do this!"

It was a low blow, a dirty trick, and she knew it. _Desperate times call for desperate measures_. He nodded his compliance, but motioned for her to lay back: a compromise. She allowed him to rearrange the pillows so that she could sit up partially while not placing any strain on her weakened body.

"Ok…are you sure I can't get you anything first? Some water? Do you need more pain potion? Should I get Fleur? She's really better at this healing thing than I am."

"Actually, I would like a sip of water, but there is nobody better at taking care of me than you are."

The blush spread across his cheeks as he poured her a glass of water from the charmed pitcher next to the bed. Both of their hands were shaking slightly, so he helped her drink. When she was done, he returned the glass and pulled his chair up closer to the head of the bed before he took his seat. A feeling of déjà vu made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"Huh!"

"What?"

"I was just thinking that this feels familiar, but not, all at the same time."

"Yeah, you're right."

"I guess we're both so stubborn that is takes a near-death experience to make us realize how awfully we've been behaving." She attempted a laugh, but the look in his eyes stopped her cold.

"Don't say that." His eyes were glassy and he gripped her hand, probably harder than he should have.

"Oh, Ron…I'm sorry…I'm not trying to make light of anything, but you have to admit that once we decide to dig our heels in it takes something drastic to make us give up."

"In the past, yes, but I promise you that is over now. Nothing is worth more to me than making sure you are safe and happy."

"But you're not the only one, Ron. That's what I need to tell you. All these years you have always been so willing to stand up for me, to take care of me, to sacrifice yourself for Harry, for me."

"Lot of good it's done! You…she hurt you, and it's my fault."

"In no way was it your fault! You have to know that! Look at me, Ron…it was not your fault. You offered to take my place! You never gave up on me; your voice is what kept me from giving up…from losing my mind."

"Do you really think...you could hear me?"

"Yes! I KNOW that if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have had the strength…I would have given up…have I ever told that I almost drowned?"

"What? No? When?"

"I was four. I was on vacation with my parents. We were staying at a hotel with a swimming pool. Long story short, I decided that I did not want to wait for my mum to join me and I jumped into the deep end. I was convinced that I was an excellent swimmer, but obviously not. I remember trying to get to the surface, but the harder I tried to get there, the further it seemed. Eventually, I just stopped trying. I wasn't even really scared, just tired. Luckily, my dad got to me in time. That was one of the reasons I was so nervous about the second task in fourth year."

"You should have said something! I would have never let you go down there if I had known that!"

"It was ok…you were there with me. I just want you to understand what it was like…I don't remember everything that happened, but it was a little like drowning. There were moments where it seemed easier to just give up, to let go. But you, YOU, came down and pulled me out."

Tears threatened to spill on her cheeks the way that they flowed on his, but she willed herself to continue.

"This is what I need to tell you. I am sorry, Ron. Sorry I doubted you. Sorry I pushed you away. Sorry I made you feel uncertain. What happened was no accident: I needed to save you, to keep you from that crazy witch. But the thing is…you ended up saving me too: all over again."

He pulled her into his arms and they both sobbed tears of love and relief. She could feel his heartbeat against her ear and his ragged breaths in her hair. When he began to speak again she could feel the rumblings in his chest, the vibrations warming her in a way she had never felt.

"For so long I have been afraid of losing you. Last year when we didn't talk for all those weeks, when I…left…you this winter…I thought it couldn't get any worse, but it was nothing compared to the chance of really losing you."

"I'm here…you kept me safe."

"I wish I could have done more, but I promise I won't argue with you…I think we both need to rest."

They both chuckled and rather reluctantly, released one another. She reached for his hand and held it tightly.

"I know I'm a little fuzzy, but have I been in this bed since we came back? I remember...Dobby…we, oh, Ron, we buried him didn't we?"

"Yeah, he didn't make it. Harry's taking it pretty hard."

"I can imagine. I'm getting bits and pieces of when we first came here. I remember you helping me come back inside afterwards. I must have been in shock. It seems like it just happened, but maybe not. It seems like a month since we were captured by those snatchers. Ron, how long have we been here?"

"37 hours"

The automatic and specific nature of his response caught her by surprise. And for a moment he looked exactly like he did when his mum caught him sneaking biscuits before dinner at the Burrow.

"You keeping count?"

"Um…I guess…so…not really. I should probably get Fleur to come check on you. I'll go get her. Will you be okay until I come back?"

His sudden desire to leave the room confused her. Had she made him uncomfortable? She didn't think so. She really felt that they had come to a better understanding. Maybe she looked sick; it would be like him to be overly cautious about her well-being.

"I'll be fine…you _will_ come back won't you?"

"Sure…if that's what you want."

"Very much."

He gave her hand a soft kiss. His anxiousness to leave seemed to evaporate, and as he backed out of the room, his eyes never left hers.


	4. Chapter 4

Turning back the blankets of the bed, _his bed_ , a wave of disbelief passed through her. It was almost impossible to process the events of the last twenty-four hours. Had it really only been yesterday that they had left Shell Cottage? Had they really broken into Gringotts? Ridden a dragon? Destroyed all the Horcruxes? Defeated Voldemort? Kissed?

The color rose to her cheeks, not only in memory of that kiss' intensity, but also in guilt. _How can you think about that at a time like this? I'm sure that Ron has too much on his mind now to think about one little kiss!_ Subconsciously her fingertips touched her lips softly, remembering the way his lips had felt against them, the way his arms had felt wrapped around her, the way he had lifted her off her feet.

There had been no time to talk: victory and grief were intertwined in the aftermath of Tom Riddle's mortality. Conversations about love would have to wait. Even after she, Ron, and Harry had found their way up to Gryffindor Tower the need for a shower and a sandwich had taken precedence over any verbal revelations. There had been so much comfort in the simple act of sitting with the two of them in that common room, silently eating sandwiches: no more plans to make, no more battles to fight. She sighed heavily at that thought. _I guess that is not entirely true, but perhaps we can have one night off; I think we've earned that much at least._

When they had eaten their fill, Harry had excused himself to shower and sleep. She had been relieved beyond measure when Ron had taken her hand and led her toward the boys' staircase. He had paused on the first step and looked back at her with an adorably earnest expression on his face.

"I just need you with me…can't stand the thought of being away from you…not now."

"Me either."

She had found them some clean _well cleaner than they ones they had on_ clothes in her bag and they had gone to wash up. Ron had gallantly offered to wait outside until she had finished, but had refused to let her return the favor.

"I'll be out in a tic. You go get the bed ready."

They had both turned pink at his words, but she only nodded and headed off to the room they would share with Harry. He was already snoring when she came in; he had fallen asleep with his glasses on, so she removed them carefully and drew the curtains around his bed. _Harry Potter: the boy who lived: again!_ How had they done it? All three of them still miraculously, wonderfully alive?! Even though she would have never admitted it to them, her logical mind had become more and more convinced that the odds of them all making it were almost zero. _Thank Merlin the two of them love nothing more than proving me wrong!_

All of these thoughts were swimming around in her head as she pulled back the blankets. _Should I go ahead and get in? Is that too presumptuous? Stop! He asked you to stay with him! Stop being such a coward!_ She crawled beneath the covers and used her wand lower the lights. Just then, Ron came into the room and paused when he passed Harry's.

"Is he out?"

"Yes, before I even got back. I had to take off his glasses. He looked so peaceful."

"Good…he deserves a rest."

"We all do." She patted the bed next to her, and he took the invitation immediately.

They both sat up against the headboard. With a few flicks of the wrist Hermione had closed and sealed the bed curtains and thy sat in the soft glow of her wand.

"Don't want to disturb Harry,"

"No…'course not."

"Ron…I…just wanted to say…that..well…"

"'Mione…"

"I know…that's what I wanted to say"

"What?"

"That we don't have to talk about anything tonight. I know you must be exhausted."

"Not as much as I thought I would be."

"Me neither."

"Right…well I just wanted to say…well…you _kissed_ me…and"

"Yes?"

"Well that wasn't really fair."

Her heart sank. Had she misunderstood after all? Had she taken advantage of an emotionally charged moment. Had it really just been a desperate I-think-I'm-about-to-die kiss? If that was the case she was going to have to get out of here and quick. Tears pricked at her eyes and she avoided looking in his direction.

"It wasn't fair because…well...damn it all!"

He reached for her and gently turned her face to his. As he spoke again his words came out soft and deep, in a way that made her insides clench in a deliciously painful way.

"You were, like always, one step ahead of me, but I plan on catching up."

He kissed her then. It was softer and slower than their previous kiss but every bit as passionate. He drew her closer so that he could take her fully in his arms. She felt as if her heart would burst. He was alive and real and kissing her the way she had always imagined. She pulled him tighter to her and he actually moaned into her mouth, causing her to lose touch with anything close to a rational thought.

They were temporarily lost in a place of pure feeling. Years of doubt and misunderstanding evaporated in a blur of hands and lips and tongues. All the little voices of second guessing were drowned out by soft moans and ragged breaths. Eventually they found themselves panting for breath, foreheads touching.

"Are you caught up?"

"Not yet, but I'll keep working on it."

"Planning on keeping count, are you?"

"Of course."

She had read somewhere that the human brain is a problem solving machine; that even the most ordinary minds will mull over a problem in the background of thought until it finds an acceptable answer. That's why people often think of the answer to a question at 2 am, or remember a name two days after they see an acquaintance on the street, or discover why Dumbledore left Harry the Sword of Gryffindor weeks after they started the hunt.

Her eyes went wide as looked at him, like she was really seeing him fully for the first time. She was not one step ahead, she had been behind, for over a year really, but in that moment everything clicked into place and she had finally caught up.

"You counted."

He could have feigned ignorance, but there was no reason to now. He really thought that she had pieced together that night at Shell Cottage, so there was nothing left to gain by denying what they both already knew.

"I did."

"But when? Why?"

"I think you know why, but I guess you deserve to hear it, all of it. I promised myself that I would never _not tell you_ again, you know?"

"I do know. Ron, we don't have to talk about this tonight, if it's too much."

"No, I want you to know. It all started the day after you sent those canaries on me…I know I deserved it…no, let me say this…Well, the next morning I really thought it would all be over. That you'd be mad for a day or two, but that things would go back to normal. But then she bounces up to me at breakfast the next morning going on and on about how she's my girlfriend. I knew I had cocked things up, but I really didn't know what to do. I just wanted to show you that I was fanciable…which I know now was a dumbass move, but anyway…there I was, the one girl I wanted hated me and a girl I didn't want wouldn't leave me alone. And before you say anything, I know that I didn't give her much of a reason to leave me alone, and it serves me right for being so jealous of Viktor when you never rubbed it in my face when you were…you know…with him."

"Pardon?"

"I mean, when you dated Viktor at least you didn't make an idiot of yourself like I did"

"I'd hardly call it dating, but I understand your point."

"So, anyway, the next night as I was going to bed I thought about how much I had fucked things up in one day, and how I really wished I could just take back those 24 hours and fix the mess I'd made. That made me think of when you had the time turner. That's when it started. So all those days I just started adding up the total…how many times would I have to turn that little bugger to make everything right again."

"Oh, Ron"

"When I woke up after I had been poisoned and you were there, I thought for a minute that I had somehow made it happen, but I didn't fix anything, you did."

"I was so convinced that you could never see me as more than your friend, I just decided to give up trying…I couldn't lose you completely, no matter who you wanted."

He cradled her face in his hands, "You. You were always who I wanted. When I…left you…I knew that I had fucked up so much worse than I had before. The only thing that kept me sane until I got back to you was keeping track of those bloody hours. I know it sounds mental, because I know that the turners are all gone, and even if there weren't they don't go back that far, but it just made me feel connected to you. It was only a few hours that stood between us. Maybe I could find a way to make it up to you."

"You did, Ron, just like I told you at Shell Cottage, you more than made up for it. You came back! You saved me, in so many ways!"

"That's when I thought you worked it out. I was counting then too, I just…It should have been me"

"Ron, can we make a promise to each other?"

"Sure! Anything you want!"

"From now on we focus on the future and considered the past settled?"

"That sounds brilliant!"

"Brilliant!"

"There's just one more thing I need to tell you."

"Anything, you can tell me anything."

"I love you, Hermione. I have for a long time."

He laced their fingers together and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I love you, Ron. I have for ages."

She looked up to find his eyes as wet as hers. He placed tender kisses on her forehead and down her cheeks. As he reached her mouth, she released his hand and brought her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He responded by continuing the trail down her jaw to the column of her neck. It was exquisite! He murmured his love into her skin and she clutched him closer still until she thought she might never get him close enough.

"Mione...I can't believe this is real."

"It is. I promise it is."

She was quickly getting lost in the feel of him. She scooted down until she was lying on the bed, pulling him down with her. This, _this_ was worth it all: the doubting, the waiting, the near misses, the heartaches, they were all leading them to this moment. He kissed her lips again as she let her hands wander underneath the bottom of his shirt. She whimpered when he grabbed her hip in response and rolled so that more of his body covered hers.

"Fuck…sorry." They were both panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath.

"Sorry? Why?"

"I got kinda carried away there for a minute."

"No more than I did…I like getting carried away with you."

"You do?'

"Yeah, it's a nice change. After holding myself back for so long, you know what I mean?"

"I do!" He laughed as he hugged her tightly, and she reveled in the comforting feeling. "I just don't want you to feel pushed, or rushed."

"I don't feel that way at all, but I don't want you to either, it's been a difficult day."

"It has been. The most horrible, but most wonderful one too. I guess someone won't explode if they feel all that at once?"

It was her turn to laugh, "Well, I guess teaspoons hold more than you might think."

"More than you can count."

He kissed her then, and put an end to talking for the night. They both knew that there was more than enough to talk about: friends and family to grieve, parents to find, a world to rebuild, but all of that could wait until the morning at least. They had time. More hours than they could ever count.

 **A/N: Well, there you have it! Mystery solved! I hope you have enjoyed what started in my head as a little one-shot, but grew into four chapters of missing moments. Thanks to all of you who have followed, or favorited, or reviewed! You are appreciated!**


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